


Mistaken impressions

by ylc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, References to Past Drug Use, Unilock, but knowing me, it'll end up having some angst, mostly romantic comedy, some references to abusive relationships, they're both so silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: John keeps telling himself he ought not to get involved in his neighbor's relationship. Sure, the man is handsome and amazing and John is very interested, but-He really shouldn’t.Easier said than done.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And here I am, with yet another new fic! I wasn’t planning on starting a new long fic, at least not until I finished some of the WIPs I have, but well… the idea came to me and of course I just couldn’t let it go.  
> Some things might be a little confusing at the beginning, but I think it makes sense. Eventually. Somewhat. Huh. I should probably warn for some references to abusive relationships, past drug use mentions, some Holmescest (but it’s all in John’s head for… reasons we’ll be seeing. Mostly because he doesn’t know they’re brothers), some implied past Sheriarty (not that we’ll see any of that, at least I don’t think so, but Molly and probably Greg and Mycroft will be making some references to it)  
> Anyway… enjoy?

The kitchen’s window faces the building’s entrance, so anyone that happens to be making dinner would get a perfect view of anyone entering or leaving. It’s not, of course, the reason John offered to cook dinner for his flatmates, because he’s certainly not waiting for someone to show up.

Of course not. That would completely ridiculous. He’s not a puppy waiting desperately for its owner return; he’s a twenty five med student who has no reason whatsoever to gaze outside the window longingly, waiting for his- _whatever_ to come home.

A black sedan parks in front of the building and John can feel his heartbeat picking up. He scowls, frustrated at his silly reaction, but all thoughts quickly leave his mind as a man steps out of the car. John most definitely doesn’t let out a dreamy sigh, nor does he smile besottedly at the tall figure. In any case, Sherlock doesn’t look up, busy as he is arguing with someone inside the vehicle.

Sherlock slams the door closed, turning around dramatically as he usually does. John keeps watching, transfixed, wondering just how the man manages to look that attractive even while scowling. He quickly shakes the thought away, telling himself, for the millionth time, that he’s in no way attracted to Sherlock Holmes.

Except he totally is.

Before Sherlock makes it to the door, another man steps out of the car. John is too high up to hear what he says, but it makes Sherlock turn immediately, glaring at him. The man simply smirks, adding something else that has Sherlock stepping closer. He spats something angrily, but his interlocutor just rolls his eyes. When Sherlock turns to leave again, the other man grabs him by the wrist, pulling him close and saying something quietly.

John takes a deep breath and tells himself not to get involved. In any case, it’s not like there’s anything he can do; he’s seen plenty of people in abusive relationships, ending with all sort of injuries at the hospital and yet, they won’t leave their partners. It’s messed up, certainly, and he wishes there was something he could do, but-

Sherlock never shows any signs of being abused, though. Not physically, at the very least or not in any visible place. But it’s obvious his posh boyfriend is controlling and possessive, judging by the various calls he receives during the day, not to mention the creepy thing with the CCTV network all over the campus. John is quite curious about what the boyfriend does for a living, but it’s not like he can ask Sherlock.

Mostly because he hasn’t actually spoken to Sherlock. Like ever.

Which makes the whole crush-thing even more ridiculous.

And he’s probably as much of a stalker as the boyfriend, now that he thinks about it. He probably wouldn’t have noticed the CCTV-thing otherwise. He’s pretty inoffensive, though. He might stare a bit too much; whenever he happens to notice Sherlock among the crowd, his eyes seem glued to him, but well-

Inoffensive, really.

Sherlock has finished his- _talk_ and has stormed into the building, yelling he wants to be left alone so loud that even John can hear, despite the distance. The boyfriend is frowning, apparently torn between following him and going back to his car, but a quick glance to his phone has him making up his mind, climbing back on the car and soon enough it’s pulling away.

John sighs, his focus back on the half cooked dinner. He noticed Sherlock Holmes from the moment he moved into the building: impossible not to, seeing how unapologetically loud he is. He had brought a ridiculous amount of things with him, some of them pretty odd, including a full chemistry set and a skeleton that John is almost sure that it’s the real thing and not a cheap copy. The loud noises that seemed like explosions put almost everyone in the building off, but John was mostly intrigued. The violin playing at one in the morning was a tad frustrating when John was trying to study for a test or just catch some sleep, but it wasn’t- unbearable. At least, not to him.

And then, at the beginning of the year, John had agreed to help a professor with her classes (mostly grading tests and homework) and Sherlock Holmes had stormed into the classroom. John had thought him attractive and interesting before, but after seeing him in class- god, the man was out of this world. Incredibly brilliant, stubborn, without any sense of self preservation and no filter whatsoever, the teenager was the most amazing person John had ever met, which of course meant he was immediately smitten.

But the boy is 7 years his junior (John isn’t even sure what is he doing in that class, but he seems to know his way around the chemistry lab and he does know more than his classmates, so…), not to mention, apparently, taken. The boyfriend had showed up a week after Sherlock had first moved into the building and had been a constant presence since then. He comes for dinner (and perhaps other things, but John doesn’t want to think about that) twice a week and most times, one can hear the shouting matches he and Sherlock engage in every Friday or so, full of recriminations on the younger man’s side (something about leaving when he needed him and being a controlling bastard). John has never heard or seen them being particularly affectionate, actually: a squeeze on the shoulder, a ruffling of hair (that always pisses off Sherlock and so John suspects it isn’t an affectionate gesture as such, but mostly a way to enrage the younger man). John would doubt they’re dating, actually, if not for the expensive gifts.

Every month or so, Sherlock comes back into the building carrying with him a bunch of bags from expensive shops all around London. John doesn’t know the first thing about fashion, but the names “Westwood” and “Burberry” certainly ring a bell and Sherlock- well, he certainly dresses nicely, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who can afford such things on his own.

Hence the boyfriend, who apparently also pays for the flat and for food to be delivered every week. Not that John had been spying, mind you, but he had happened to overheard a conversation between Sherlock and his boyfriend (well, more like a loud argument) in which the older man had threatened to stop paying for the place.

So, controlling, definitely. Abusive, too, in John’s opinion. But for some reason Sherlock seems willing to put up with him and so… well, it’s really none of John’s business, is it?

But he can’t help to pay attention to the younger man and he often finds himself wanting to- talk to him. Mostly to make sure he’s okay and offer some help if needed (no strings attached, mind you! He isn’t that kind of guy) but also- well, at the very least, he seems terribly interesting and John is more than a little intrigued.

But those sort of ideas could land him in all sort of trouble. Better to keep his distance and stop with this nonsense. Sadly, it’s easier said than done.

“Are you spying on your not-boyfriend again?” comes a voice from behind him and John jumps, startled. Bill offers him an amused smile and John can see Mike hiding his smile behind his hand.

“Of course not,” he argues darkly, his cheeks colouring slightly. Bill smirks and John hurries to ignore him, turning to viciously chop the vegetables.

“You know, you could just talk to him after class,” Bill suggests, leaning against the counter. “Make up an excuse about a paper or something. Anything would be better than all this pathetical pining we’re subjected to.”

Mike chuckles and John turns to glare at him. Bill’s smirk widens and John glares at him too; some friends they’re turning out to be. “He never turns in his papers,” he murmurs softly, forcing himself to go back to dinner making.

“Even better!” Bill exclaims happily. “Tell him he’s going to fail if he keeps that up, but that you’re willing to help-”

“He doesn’t care,” John argues dejectedly. He has thought about the idea before, to be honest, but he knows it’s pointless. Sherlock goes to class because he seems to actually like the subject, but he’s not all that interested in getting a good grade. “Besides, it’s not a good idea.”

“Because of the boyfriend?” Bill questions, with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes,” John answers simply, even though that’s not the full truth.

Once more, Bill rolls his eyes. “You know the guy is a douche. He would probably be happy to ditch him for you, Johnny. You’re a wonderful boyfriend, if half of the campus is to be believed.”

Mike laughs loudly at that and John turns to glare at him once more. It’s true that back when he started University he used to date a lot, but not anymore. He’s gotten older and wiser and he’s- he’s not interested in that anymore.

He’s interested in Sherlock, though. But well... the man has stayed with his boyfriend for this long for a reason and he seems- well, not happy per se, but-

“You’re just scared you’re going to end up dead in a ditch somewhere,” Bill continues, undeterred by John’s glare. “And while I admit that’s a possibility, considering how- _possessive_ the boyfriend seems-”

“Bill, stop it,” Mike urges him, sensing John is losing his patience. Bill scowls briefly but relents, as he usually does when Mike intervenes. By now he knows to trust Mike’s instinct when it comes to John’s patience and so avoid any nasty conflict.

John sends a quick thankful smile in Mike’s direction and goes back to making dinner in peace, both of his flatmates finally leaving him alone.

In the apartment upstairs, Sherlock starts playing a sad song on his violin and John sighs.

It’s a bad idea, really.

And yet-

* * *

 

“We could get in serious trouble for this,” John points out, even if he knows his words won’t have any effect on his friends. Bill is too strong headed for his own good and Mike- well, Mike tends to go along with them in whatever crazy “adventure” despite his much more centered personality.

And to be completely honest, John is- interested, too.

“Oh, live a little, Johnny,” Bill says good naturedly, as they slide along the darkened halls of the morgue. “Besides, it’s perfectly safe. Molly says nobody comes down here this late at night.”

“Unless there’s been a murder,” Mike decides to point out then. “I’ve seen a few officers coming and going out at all hours.”

Bill shrugs non committedly. “Yes, but they won’t know we’re students. If anyone asks, we’ll say we’re forensic technicians.”

“Which is a lie that will hold as long as they don’t ask us to do an autopsy,” John murmurs darkly and although he can’t see him, he can tell Bill is rolling his eyes dramatically. His friend takes the whole _living dangerously_ very seriously.

“It’s not like we’re first year students,” Bill argues. “You do know how to make an autopsy, don’t you Johnny?”

Probably. Still, lying to the police-

A door opens, startling them. A redheaded girl peeks out and smiles brightly at Bill once she spots him. “Oh, you’re here!” she exclaims happily. “I thought you had changed your mind.”

Bill smiles winningly and the girl blushes right away, making both John and Mike roll their eyes. “Of course not, Molly dear. The boys just took a bit more of convincing than I expected.”

The girl shrugs, opening the door wider so they can walk in. John looks around, taking the row of empty slabs and surgical equipment laying here and there. “Won’t you get in trouble, if anyone finds us here?” he feels obliged to ask, ignoring Bill’s pointed glare.

“Nobody comes here late at night,” Molly says with another shrug. “Except the police and I can always tell them you’re new. They don’t ask many questions.” She seems to think better of her statement, scrunching her nose a little. “Well, questions not related to the body, that is.”

John smiles reassuringly at her and the girl smiles back, her cheeks tinted red once more. She’s very pretty, John thinks, but perhaps too shy to be Bill’s type and he would hate to think his friend is just leading her on so they can get access to the morgue and the bodies there to practice.

A quick glance in Bill’s direction reassures him that’s not the case. He’s staring at Molly with evident interest, even if he’s quick to change his slightly besotted expression as soon as the pathologist turns to him. “So, what-?” she begins, but gets interrupted by the door being thrown open, making them all jump and turn to face the newcomer.

John’s heart stops in his chest and he wonders if this is some sort of dream. It doesn’t- it wouldn’t make a lot of sense, he thinks, but-

Sherlock’s eyes slide across the room, his expression perfectly blank. “Good evening,” he greets calmly.

“Sherlock, you can’t-” Molly begins, apparently having recovered from the slight fright.

“Honestly Molly, you’ve got the worst taste in men,” Sherlock talks over her and the woman snaps her mouth shut, turning an impossible shade of red. Sherlock is staring at Bill with intent, his eyes sweeping all over him. “He’s not your type.”

“Oh, what do you know about _my type_?” Molly snaps, before Bill can open his mouth to protest. “No, no, don’t answer that!” she exclaims, when it looks Sherlock is about to say something. “It was a rhetorical question.”

Sherlock tilts his head, looking briefly confused before he resumes his blank expression. “Well, at least this one is actually straight,” he adds, making Molly splutter indignantly. “But never mind that; do you have the liver I asked for?”

Molly makes a face, evidently displeased and John can’t help wondering how can someone be so terribly irritating and frankly rude and yet he can find him so damn attractive.

“Really?” Bill asks, when Molly goes to look for the liver without protesting anymore. “Listen mate, you can’t-”

“Oh, don’t.” Sherlock interrupts sharply, his attention on the phone he has just taken out of his pocket. “Molly knows I mean no harm.”

“He really doesn’t,” Molly points out, handing him a plastic bag that actually seems to contain a liver. A cirrhosed liver, from what John can see. “He’s just-” she gestures vaguely. “You get used to it.”

“You shouldn’t need to,” Bill points out, crossing his arms in front of his chest and Molly offers him a small smile.

“I’ve been told I’m a little abrasive,” Sherlock says calmly, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “You can ask Dr. Watson, here. Professor Stapleton has threatened to throw me out of her classroom more than once.”

John stares at the man, slightly surprised. True, he’s assistant professor in one of Sherlock’s classes, but the younger man seems to pay very little attention to the professor herself, so John wasn’t sure he even knew he existed and-

“I don’t think that’s the word Johnny would use,” Bill says, a bright smile on his face, suddenly remembering this extremely rude person also happens to be his flatmate’s _crush._ John sends a glare in his direction, silently praying Sherlock won’t draw a conclusion out of his words.

Sherlock looks confused for a beat, but then shrugs non committedly. “You could ask Dr. Stamford too, I guess,” he adds, tilting his head in Mike’s direction. “He did throw me out of the chemistry lab a couple of times.”

“You made things explode,” Mike says good naturedly. “I simply couldn’t let that go.”

John and Bill send matching betrayed looks in his direction, making him smile innocently. Mike might look pretty harmless and good natured, but- “You never mentioned you were so well acquainted with our upstairs neighbor, Mike,” Bill says, narrowing his eyes at him.

“You never asked,” Mike answers simply, with a shrug and an amused smirk.

Sherlock and Molly are staring between the two of them, obviously confused by the exchange. John can feel his cheeks colouring slightly, but he hopes the poor illumination of the room will work on his favor.

“Anyway,” Sherlock says finally, taking the plastic bag Molly was still holding. “I better be off. Thank you, Molly,” he adds in an after thought, leaning to peck the girl’s cheek. The girl blushes once more and John wonders just how many shades of red she can manage to turn.

“You’re welcome,” Molly murmurs, but Sherlock is already gone. John takes a deep breath, telling himself it’s ridiculous to be so affected, but-

“Well, he might be pretty to look at, but he’s definitely not for you, Johnny,” Bill informs him merrily and John groans. “Nevermind the psychotic boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Molly questions, looking troubled. “They got back together?” She scrunches her nose a little, something like distaste crossing her features. “And he dares to criticize my tastes in men.”

“Speaking of,” John decides to intervene, not really wanting to hear anything else about Sherlock’s boyfriend. “Bill, why don’t you take Molly here out for coffee as a thank you?” he asks innocently, making his flatmate blush furiously as Molly turns to him expectantly.

“Of course,” Bill murmurs, not really looking at her. “Next friday?”

Molly giggles cutely and nods, making Bill smile brightly at her. John and Mike exchange a knowing look, both happy for their friend.

But as Bill, Molly and Mike start talking about one thing or another, John can’t help his thoughts turning back to Sherlock Holmes. He’s rude and abrasive, and yet-

Well, John is more than a tad intrigued.

And that doesn’t bode well for the future, does it?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! I was a bit torn on whether or not I wanted this to run from multiple POVs but then I started actually writing and well… this happened. Hopefully it’s enjoyable?

Sherlock isn’t in the best of moods as he makes his way through the empty halls of the morgue. It’s quite late, but he’s certain Molly won’t mind: she understands sometimes he just needs a distraction and she’s only too happy to help.

As the thought surfaces, his left hand goes to clasp his right forearm and he growls, frustrated with himself and letting go of his arm immediately. Certain thoughts bring up certain memories and whenever that happens, he can feel an itch beneath his skin. It’s absolutely hateful and horribly distracting, but it can’t be helped.

He scowls darkly, wondering just how much longer will things continue this way. He’s been clean for over a year, surely… surely this  _ itch  _ should have disappeared already? Besides, it’s not like he  _ really  _ wants to do drugs again, at least not consciously. The mere idea gives him shivers (the wrong kind of shivers) and so he knows he doesn’t want to go down that road again, but-

There are voices coming from inside the morgue and Sherlock’s scowl darkens further. Just who is Molly inviting over for  _ dates  _ at the morgue? Sherlock would think the idea a bit morbid, but Molly is… well, she has weird ideas about romance. And very poor taste in partners: they’re either cheating or hiding in the closet or crazy psychopaths-

No. He’s most definitely not thinking of  _ him.  _ Although, if he was, it must be said that it probably worked out for the best that Sherlock was the one who ended up falling into his web of lies and deception, because Molly-

Well. It doesn’t matter anymore.

There are at least two other people in there with Molly. He frowns, wondering what has she gotten herself into and promptly tells himself it’s not really any of his business. Still, Molly is sort of a friend, not to mention that if she ends up in trouble, his access to body parts will be severely limited, so-

He recognizes one of the voices of Molly’s companions and his heart makes a summersault. Sherlock glares at the closed door and considers turning away and simply coming back tomorrow, but he notices then he’s caressing his forearm once more and he makes a face. Biting his lip, he pushes the door open and tells his silly heart to stop beating so erratically.

Molly’s newest choice of boyfriend material seems decent enough, which is… good, he supposes. He also happens to know Mike Stamford and he’s a nice fellow, so he doubts he would be friends with someone terribly odious, so there’s that. He makes polite chit chat while he waits for Molly to fetch his liver (or what passes as polite chit chat for Sherlock Holmes) and keeps himself from turning to face the last occupant of the room. Eventually though, he’s incapable of stopping himself from addressing John Watson and he forcibly turns his attention back to Molly’s  _ suitor  _ shortly after so he won’t look like the lovesick fool he is.

It’s ridiculous, really. They haven’t actually talked, unless one is willing to count the  _ good mornings _ and  _ good evenings  _ at the halls and the one time John had dropped a marker during a lesson and Sherlock had passed it back. He’s fairly certain the older boy doesn’t even remember that and yet for Sherlock the memory is clear as day.

Pathetic, honestly.

But Sherlock’s experience with the matters of the heart is practically non existent (and no, he’s not counting  _ him.  _ As far as he’s concerned, that never happened at all) and so he believes he’s quite justified. For John Watson  _ is  _ charming, as half of the school will be happy to testify and so it’s completely natural for Sherlock to have fallen head over heels for the handsome boy, never mind he doesn’t actually  _ know _ him.

Except he does, because Sherlock  _ knows  _ everyone. He’s quite proud of his observational skills and he’s always been an excellent judge of character (with the one obvious  _ exception _ ); he  _ knows  _ John is gentle and compassionate and sweet, and he’s also short tempered and prone to reckless and dangerous behavior, which just makes him even more  _ perfect  _ in Sherlock’s eyes.

He’s also very attractive, but that’s hardly the point. He might have catched Sherlock’s eye due his roguish looks, but it’s the rest of his personality what has kept his interest.

Not the point, though. 

The little exchange between John and his flatmates leaves him a little confused, but he decides not to think much about it. So far he doesn’t particularly care for the explanation he has come up with; it wouldn’t do to indulge in foolish delusions. 

He thanks Molly politely and rushes out of the room, his heart still beating erratically and he curses his foolish reaction: he’s not an awkward teenager with an impossible crush.

Except he totally is.

With a sigh, he makes his way back to his apartment.

* * *

 

Tuesday evening finds him going over the brief conversation between John and his flatmates at the morgue. It’s a silly daydream, he knows, but who doesn’t like fantasizing about their crush liking them back? Besides, a little daydreaming has never hurt anybody, so…

He smiles at himself as he continues chopping the liver Molly gave him. He’s done with his experiment, but Mycroft is bound to arrive any minute now and he so enjoys annoying his older brother. With any luck, one of these days he’ll run into him doing something that will convince him to stay away from his flat for the rest of eternity.

Unlikely, but he can’t be blamed for dreaming.

Besides, he supposes his brother does have a point. Not only is he paying for the place, Sherlock has some pretty self destructive tendencies that need to be closely watched out. Even before the drugs, he wasn’t the healthiest of people and so he understands his brother’s concern. He doesn’t like it or even appreciates it, but he does understand.

Just in cue, the door opens and his brother steps in. Mycroft looks tired; he hasn’t been sleeping and has been eating less than usual. Some international crisis, Sherlock guesses, which of course means his brother will have even less patience for him and all his little  _ quirks  _ than usual.

Sherlock makes a face.

This just won’t end well.

* * *

 

After another shout match that has him chasing his brother downstairs after he has the  _ nerve  _ of making some casual comment about  _ him,  _ Sherlock makes his way back upstairs. He’s fuming, an occasional curse escaping him, stomping as your average toddler. His throat feels sore and he already knows he’s going to regret having yelled that much come tomorrow morning, but-

“Is everything alright?” John is standing outside his flat, peering curiously at him. Sherlock is half tempted to tell him to mind his own business, but promptly thinks better of it. The man is just trying to be nice and Sherlock- well, he does like the older man. It wouldn’t do to get on his bad side just because he has happened to get into a fight with his brother.

“Fine,” he grunts, avoiding any direct eye contact. He hates people pitying him and he knows that’s exactly what he’ll see in John’s beautiful eyes if he looks up.

John bites his lip, evidently torn about saying something. Sherlock tells himself not to linger and continue his way upstairs, but finds himself frozen in place. He’s craving comfort and understanding, but he knows he’d be looking for it in the wrong place. John might feel- he might feel compelled to help somehow, but that’s certainly not how Sherlock wants their relationship to develop.

Although, to be completely honest, he’s not even sure he wants a relationship to develop.

“Do you want some tea?” John offers gently, already moving so to allow Sherlock to walk into the apartment. “I’m afraid I only have the bagged kind, but-” he bites his lips nervously and there’s something terribly endearing about his hesitancy and of course Sherlock agrees without even noticing he’s doing that.

John continues chattering about one thing or another as he looks for the tea bags and Sherlock contents himself with looking around the flat. The kitchen is pristine, but the living room is a bit of a mess, with a clutter of books and random stuff lying over the table and the couch. There’s a cramped desk in one of the corners and a smaller table next to the huge bookcase that contains mostly medicine textbooks. That particular table has been carefully cleaned and the small pile of books on it is in perfect order, along with the hand written notes next to them.

Deductions come to him as easily as breathing, but his skill is severely affected when he’s emotionally compromised (and no, he’s most definitely not thinking of  _ him _ ) and so he tries not to read much into John’s casual stance or his friendly smile. Up this close the man is even more attractive than Sherlock first thought: all those stolen glances had certainly not prepared him for the reality of how handsome John Watson is.

“Are you alright?” John asks after what feels like a lifetime, probably unnerved by the silence, toying with his half empty cup. Sherlock narrows his eyes at him and the doctor offers him a small smile. “It was a pretty loud fight.”

“As they always are,” Sherlock replies with a sigh. “It doesn’t really matter; he’ll come back in a couple of days and we’ll both pretend it never happened.” He takes a sip from his tea, enjoying the warmth of it. Besides, John makes a very nice tea. “It’s always been that way.”

John frowns, but doesn’t comment. He can read his own complicated relationship with a sibling all over him, but knows better than to say something: people quickly become unnerved when he seems to know something that he isn’t supposed to.

More silence and Sherlock finds himself wanting to say more, if only to buy himself more time in John Watson’s presence. “It’s not that bad really. And he does pay for the flat, and the food and school so...” he says with a self depreciating smile.

“That’s no real way of living,” John points out softly. “You could do better.”

Sherlock almost laugh out loud at that, because Mycroft certainly shares that belief. He thinks Sherlock is wasting his potential by keeping himself entertained with iddle experiments and  _ school  _ of all things, but neither truly understands his reasons. He’s- he’s simply not ready for anything more complicated. Maybe in a few years, but right now-

It feels like too much.

He shrugs, finishing his drink. “Thanks for the tea. Good evening.” He stands up smoothly, suddenly feeling wrong footed. It was a bad idea to come in, he should have-

“Wait!” John exclaims, grabbing him by the wrist and it takes every bit of Sherlock’s self control not to blush madly. It’s ridiculous really, that such a small contact has him so worked up, but-

“Yes?” he questions, one eyebrow raised challengingly. He really doesn’t need someone telling him what he should be doing with his life, particularly not after how things went with Jim-

He makes a face. He hates when the man infiltrates his thoughts and so he forces himself to pay attention to whatever John is saying, if only to distract himself. “-want to come with me?”

“What?” he asks, because he must have missed something vital and that’s why John’s question is making no sense whatsoever.

John bites his lip. “I said I was thinking of going out for dinner tonight, since Mike is stuck at the hospital and Bill is on a date and I wondered if you would like to join me.”

Sherlock continues watching him in silence, the words still not making any sense. John blushes profusely, looking away. “Forget it. I don’t- I mean, I understand-”

“Yes,” Sherlock utters, fighting a blush of his own and John’s mouth snaps shut. “I- I would like to go out with you, John.”

Oh, that didn’t- that wasn’t- they’re not-

It’s not a date, is it?

“Great!” John exclaims happily, beaming brightly at him. “I’m gonna take a shower first but- meet you outside in fifteen?”

Sherlock nods numbly and watches as John rushes in the direction of his room, trusting him to show himself out. He stands there for the longest time, wondering what has just happened and what exactly what he has gotten himself into.

That’s what he gets for not thinking things through.

He has the impression he won’t regret it one bit though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?
> 
> This turned much shorter than I expected, but I figured it was a good place to end it. Not sure what I’m going to do about the  _ not date  _ because that wasn’t actually planned (I wanted to keep them pining silently from afar for a bit longer) but well… I guess we’ll see where the path leads us ;) And if you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them!
> 
> Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought!
> 
>  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! It’s a bit shorter than I expected but well… hopefully it’s enjoyable enough?

The  _ not date  _ is going… well, all things considered. To be completely honest, John hadn’t even been planning on going out, much less with his handsome neighbor, but he isn’t about to complain about the outcome. Sherlock has proved to be as interesting as he had imagined, if a bit self conscious- he has seen him in class, he knows he doesn’t hold back from saying what he actually thinks and yet he has seen him opening his mouth to say something and then think better of it at least thrice.

The restaurant they’re in is nice enough. Nothing too fancy, but nice. Sherlock recommended it and John had been happy to go along, only hoping his finances could resist this bit of an indulgence. He guesses he’s going to need to walk  _ everywhere  _ and survive on pre cooked meals for the next week at least, but for the chance to  _ finally  _ get to know Sherlock better… well, he would say every sacrifice is worth it.

As his companion offers him a shy smile and they lapse into a comfortable silence, he becomes certain of that: 

It’s most definitely worth it.

* * *

 

Luckily for him, the restaurant’s owner is a-  _ something  _ of Sherlock. He missed a couple of vital details, he supposes, but he was too busy trying not to choke on his food when the man had placed a candle on their table, claiming it was more  _ romantic _ . Not wanting Sherlock to get the wrong idea, he had attempted to correct the man, only to be ignored, the other man’s focus completely on Sherlock. The younger man had simply smiled politely and thanked Angelo for the dinner, which the man had then insisted was on the house _. _

_ Anything for Sherlock and his date,  _ he had said before disappearing back into the kitchen, leaving a very flustered John behind. Sherlock had shrugged, mentioned something about him not having to walk everywhere for the rest of the month (and god, wasn’t it embarrassing he knew that?) and continued eating absent mindedly.

After that, they had a pleasant dinner, both a little lost in their own thoughts and now they’re making their way back to their apartment building in companionable silence, although John is a bit nervous. He’s quite convinced this wasn’t a date and he’s fairly certain Sherlock agrees; he doesn’t seem the cheating type, in any case, although after the last fight he wouldn’t be surprised if he dumped the boyfriend (unlikely, but John can’t be blamed for dreaming). Still, that leaves the question of what happens now.

“I had a pleasant evening,” Sherlock says once they’ve made it to John’s flat. 

“So did I,” John says, a small smile on his lips. He feels entirely wrong footed, standing outside his flat with Sherlock Holmes, both looking like awkward teenagers. John hates it: it’s like being 15 again and wondering if he ought to kiss the girl he invited for ice cream goodbye.

Of course Sherlock isn’t a girl and while he invited him for dinner, he didn’t quite mean it like that. But, to be completely honest, he wouldn’t be averse to kissing: not when Sherlock’s eyes are fixed on him, making him all hot and bothered.

“Well, goodnight,” Sherlock says flippantly, turning around abruptly and startling John out of his silly reverie. He watches the other man leave, somehow knowing that if he doesn’t say something he’ll regret it forever and yet, what does one say to your  _ not date  _ after a lovely evening?

“Sherlock, wait!” he exclaims a bit desperately, reaching for him and yet not daring to touch him. The taller man stops, turning to him slowly, tilting his head. He looks curious and perhaps a tad hopeful, but John isn’t sure that’s not just wishful thinking on his part. “I was wondering if- maybe we could do it again?” he cringes at his own awkwardness, the words sounding forced and all wrong and hopes the other man won’t read too much into it. He doesn’t have high hopes of that, seeing how observant Sherlock is, but-

Sherlock continues watching him in silence and John tells himself to hold his stare evenly. It’s a bit- unnerving, to be honest, but not unbearable.

“Perhaps,” Sherlock replies calmly, “I’m free next Wednesday.”

John can’t stop himself from grinning and that prompts a small smile from the other man, so he’s getting more hopeful with each passing minute. “Wednesday works for me,” John says, although that’s not quite true: he might not have had to pay for tonight’s dinner, but it’s unlikely his finances can take the abuse if he keeps on asking Sherlock out.

Although that’s not exactly what he’s doing, is it?

Sherlock nods once, before turning around dramatically once more and continuing his way to his flat. John remains where he is, watching the other’s retreating back and wondering what is he doing.

If he must be honest with himself, he has no idea whatsoever.

* * *

 

Wednesday’s dinner goes well and that prompts another outing on Friday. So far John has avoided paying for anything, since Sherlock seems to be full of acquaintances all around London that are happy to let him and  _ his date  _ eat for free. John isn’t exactly certain if they’re actually dating, but he has figured it would be better not to look too deep into it.

He hasn’t shared the news of his newfound acquaintance with his flatmates, not wanting to endure their teasing. Ever since that night at the morgue, they have been teasing him constantly, so he doesn’t feel like giving them even more reason to bother him. Still, he wishes he had someone to consult about his new situation as well as what is he supposed to do about it.

He wants to keep dining with Sherlock, that’s for sure, but he wishes he knew if they’re going out in a romantic context. It’s a bit unnerving this thing they have: he likes the other man far too much and he enjoys his company greatly and he certainly doesn’t wish for them to stop, but- he doesn’t know where this is going. He wouldn’t mind if Sherlock just wants them to be friends, but he wishes he knew-

He gets pulled out of his confusing thoughts as he watches a black car park in front of the apartment building. He frowns, confused, as Sherlock’s  _ boyfriend _ steps out. He hasn’t shown up in nearly a week and John had assumed-

Well, he guesses that answers his question, doesn’t it?

With a sigh, he goes back to work on his assignment, figuring he has already wasted too much time thinking about this.

Besides, now he has all the answers he needs.

* * *

 

Sherlock asks him to dinner on Monday and John valiantly refuses the invitation, making up an excuse about tests that need marking. Then he remembers Sherlock is actually on the class he’s assitant professor and so he knows they haven’t had a test and curses his inability to lie. Sherlock however doesn’t seem to mind terribly, simply disappearing back upstairs.

It’s crazy and John knows it. He likes the other man; just because Sherlock isn’t interested in him like that, it doesn’t mean they need to stop hanging out. Still, he must admit he’s feeling a bit brokenhearted right now and so, maybe for the time being-

It’s ridiculous, really. He was the one who was entertaining silly thoughts; Sherlock probably didn’t think much of it. He has seen the other man at class, he’s too brash and straightforward, he probably doesn’t have that many friends. And yet he and John were getting along fine, so…

He sighs, figuring he ought to apologize.

He did think he would be fine with just being friends, didn’t he?

* * *

 

He keeps postponing the whole apologizing thing and so Friday comes around once more. He has seen Sherlock’s boyfriend visiting twice since Monday and he must admit that’s part of the reason why he hasn’t said something, although-

But tonight, he has decided, is the night: he’ll apologize and ask Sherlock to dinner and they’ll see how things go. He really does want them to be friends: even if they can never be something else, he’ll be happy with that.

His thoughts get interrupted as he notices the CCTV cameras following him around campus. When the public phones start ringing, he figures he’s never going to get to apologize: he’s going to be a very dead man very soon.

He picks up one of the phones finally, feeling strangely calm for a man facing his death. “Hello?” he says, his voice perfectly steady despite the mad beating of his heart. He supposes anyone else would have attempted to call the police or at least contact his friends, but he’s never been one to shy away from danger.

“Dr. Watson, please get into the car that’s parking next to you right now,” a smooth voice orders and John glares at nothing in particular, not appreciating being ordered around by some unknown person (even if he has a very good idea of who’s in the other side of the line)

“And if I don’t?”

There’s no answer but the sound of the call being disconnected. John sighs, running his fingers through his hair and wondering not for the first time what the  _ boyfriend  _ does for a living. He wonders if Sherlock could actually break up with him if he wanted to and the idea makes him unbelievably angry, but he figures that’ll have to wait for later. For now, he supposes, he must focus on his present.

He gets in the car as he’s been ordered, knowing he really has no other choice. There’s a woman inside already and she offers him a perfunctory smile before turning her attention back to her phone. John considers asking her what is this all about, but he supposes he already knows. He wishes the dramatics could have been avoided, but evidently, that’s not how it works.

When the car finally stops again, they’re outside what looks like an abandoned warehouse. John groans, rolling his eyes. “Someone has watched too many cheap spies movies,” he murmurs and his companion lets out a choked giggle that she immediately hurries to contain, frowning.

“He’s waiting for you, Dr. Watson,” she tells him calmly, looking at him quickly. “Careful with that smart mouth of yours.”

John rolls his eyes but figures it’ll do him good to heed the advice. Still, if the damned  _ boyfriend  _ believes he can be so easily intimidated, he has another thing coming. 

Squaring his shoulders, he makes his way to the warehouse, looking around for any escape route. Not that he thinks it would truly be useful, but-

As he expected, the place looks as abandoned in the inside as it does on the outside. There’s a man waiting for him in the other side of the room, standing right beneath the only still functioning light, leaning casually against his umbrella. John sighs and continues walking, his heart still beating madly, but remaining perfectly calm on the outside.

“Dr. Watson,” the man greets politely, “we meet at last.”

John offers him a tight smile. “Were all the theatrics really necessary?”

The man shrugs casually. “A penchant for drama is a family thing. Which brings me to my first question: what is your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?”

“Why do you care?” John counters calmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and the other man arches an eyebrow.

“Really, Dr. Watson. Can’t you just make this easier on all of us?”

“It depends on what exactly do you want,” John replies, keeping his cool facade. “I really don’t think it’s any of your business who Sherlock is friends with or not.”

“Friends?” the man says distastefully. “Sherlock doesn’t have  _ friends.”  _ He scrunches his nose, obviously not liking the idea. “One of the few things we share.”

“Yes, well, as I said- none of your business.”

The other man smirks, “I’m simply a very concerned party, Dr. Watson. I worry about him… constantly. In fact-” his smile turns predatory, as he takes out what looks like a checkbook out of his coat pocket. “I’d be prepared to pay you a handsome sum, in exchange for some information. Nothing outrageous, I assure you,” he adds, when John is about to argue, “just- little things. There’s only so much I can see through the CCTV network. You however-”

“How- how can you even-?” John begins, too outraged to even form complete sentences. The other man simply observes him in silence and John glares darkly. “No. Of course not.”

“Are you sure?” the other questions. “With your sister’s drinking problem and your mother’s medical bills, I’m fairly certain a few extra pounds wouldn’t go amiss.”

“How do you know that?!” John demands angrily and the man simply rolls his eyes.

“That’s not important,” he states calmly. “Do we have a deal or not? I assure you, Dr. Watson, if you do this favour for me- well, I’m prepared to be as generous as needed.”

“Fuck off,” John replies darkly and the man lets out a small chuckle.

“You’re very loyal, very fast,” he comments, almost off handedly. He looks oddly pleased and that sits ill with John. “Suit yourself then. But know that my offer stands, if you ever change your mind.”

John glares, but the man simply dismisses him with a wave of his hand. He’s half tempted to throw a punch, if only for the satisfaction of seeing the other’s startled face, but promptly thinks better of it: no use on getting into silly fights he simply can’t win.

He turns around, now more determined than ever to see Sherlock again. The man could use some normalcy in his life, not to mention a friend if he ever needs help; even if John might not have the power or connections or money the  _ boyfriend _ has…

He’s still a better option than that creep, honestly.

* * *

 

Sherlock opens the door abruptly, his eyes flickering over him. He frowns a little, his mouth curving in disgust. “Did you take the money?”

“What?” John asks, surprised and horrified, wondering how many of Sherlock’s “friends” have agreed to the horrid deal, his heart constricting painfully in his chest. “Of course not!”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “You should have,” he states calmly, moving away so he can enter the flat. “We could have shared it, if it made you feel better,” he adds, plopping on the couch. “Oh well, too late for regrets.”

John arches an eyebrow. “Is that something he does often?”

Sherlock scoffs. “Mycroft has always been- well, he has his own ideas on what’s best for me.” He’s avoiding John’s eyes and he can’t help worrying a little. “I’ll talk to him; he won’t bother you again.”

“I’m more worried about you, honestly,” John murmurs, sitting on the edge of the couch, unsure. “That can’t be healthy.”

Sherlock barks out a laugh, still avoiding his eyes. “I wouldn’t know about that. I guess I’m just used to it.” He closes his eyes, looking older than he is and so very tired. “I do understand his concerns, though. I’ve been known to make some… unadvisable acquaintances.”

John places a hand on his knee, uncertain if he’s allowed to do that. Sherlock looks at him immediately, a bit startled by the sudden contact. “Am I an unadvisable acquaintance?”

Sherlock observes him for a beat and John barely dares to breath. “No, I don’t think so,” the younger man says after what feels like an eternity and John smiles brightly at him.

He’ll fight the battles he can and he’ll be happy for his wins.

That’s all he can do, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone? I fear the first part feel a bit rushed… I’ve never been any good at this slowburn thing. Maybe because that’s also not how I do things IRL ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought!  
> *BTW, on a bit of side note. Considering the mess the election turned out to be… well, writing is how I try to ignore reality, but I wanted to let you guys know that if you want someone to talk to, I’ll be happy to listen. Of course there’s not much I can actually do (I’m not even American, you see) but well… I’ll listen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! See? I told you I might write more last week ;) It turned a bit shorter than I meant (again) but since it went in a direction I wasn’t actually planning… well.  
> Enjoy?

“So, I hear you’re seeing someone.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns around immediately, but Molly hurries to grab him by the coat and pull him back. “Come on, Sherlock. Don’t be like that,” she says, sporting a pout that would make a lesser man feel incredibly guilty.

Sherlock, being Sherlock, feels nothing but annoyance.

“You’re not 15 anymore, Molly,” he says, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. “We’re not gossiping teenagers.”

Molly rolls her eyes good naturedly, making a mental list of the organs she can donate to Sherlock’s “research” in exchange of _vital information_ in case he remains this uncooperative _._ “So, how is it going with John?”

Sherlock groans, covering his face with his hands and Molly giggles enthusiastically. “There’s nothing going on between us,” he argues darkly, glaring so she’ll stop with her nonsense. “We’re just… we’ve been out a couple of times-”

“Sure. If 15 dinners, 4 lunches and 2 breakfasts are just a couple of outings,” Molly says, her eyes sparkling with amusement and Sherlock’s jaw almost hits the floor, wondering how she knows that, before recovering from his shock and once more looking thoroughly annoyed.

“I don’t know who your source is, but I assure you-”

“Oh, you know I’m dating one of his flatmates, don’t you? I’ve convinced Bill and Mike that teasing John won’t do you any favours, so he doesn’t really know we know, but we’ve all seen you. You’re completely adorable together, you know?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, forcing down his giddiness. There’s nothing to feel _giddy_ about anyway. “Nonsense,” he utters with a convection he doesn’t really feel. “We’re barely friends. He’s not- he’s not interested.”

“Oh, how would you know?” Molly argues with a smile, ignoring Sherlock’s dark look. “And you haven’t denied you’re interested.”

Sherlock sighs, avoiding eye contact with his companion. “So what if I am?” he asks dejectedly. “I see no point on entertaining a hopeless _crush_ . Besides, relationships aren’t really _my area._ ”

Molly makes a face and Sherlock knows they’re both thinking of his latest boyfriend. Molly doesn’t know the whole story; doesn’t know the dark depths of Sherlock’s descent but she does know he had a hard time out of it and so knows better than to acknowledge it out loud.

“John is a nice guy,” Molly says after a while, her initial enthusiasm slightly diminished. “He’d be good to you.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment. Even if that was the case, the fact remains: John isn’t interested. Molly is right, they’ve been going out a lot and he has yet to make something resembling a _move_ , so Sherlock has come to believe he’s not interested in that at all.

“It’s not like anyone can blame you for being interested,” Molly comments in jest, sensing the dark mood Sherlock is slowly falling into. “He has charmed the pants off of half of the school, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he charmed you too.”

The man blushes furiously at that. He wouldn’t be opposed to such outcome, to be completely honest, but that’s also part of the problem: even if John wanted to date him, his reputation precedes him. He’s sweet and caring and the perfect boyfriend, but he doesn’t do commitment.

And Sherlock doesn’t know how to do _casual._

“I’m sorry,” the pathologist apologises after a long and tense silence. “I know- I’m sorry.”

Sherlock shrugs, knowing she meant no harm. “It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I’m fine.”

And he is. He’ll take what he can get, any day, no questions asked.

John’s friendship is more than enough.

* * *

 

“You need to stop this nonsense, Sherlock.”

The younger man grunts in acknowledgement but doesn’t move from his position lying prone on the couch. Mycroft huffs, rubbing his temples tiredly. He knows losing his temper now won’t do either of them any favours, but then, his visits to Sherlock rarely go well.

Maybe that’s why his brother’s… acquaintance gives him such nasty looks when they happen to run into each other.

Or maybe it was the “kidnapping”. People can get pretty dramatic about that.

“I’m serious, Sherlock,” he continues, carefully picking his way around the messy flat. “All this… _dating_ nonsense is no good for you.” The kitchen is oddly pristine and he wonders if that’s the doctor’s doing. He certainly seems the type, but then this ridiculousness is even more worrisome than he originally thought.

“We’re not dating,” his brother protests softly, his voice dulled by the fact that he’s pressing his face against a pillow. “Besides, I thought you liked him.”

Mycroft arches an eyebrow, continuing his inspection of the flat. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, when he didn’t immediately go mysteriously missing after meeting you, I assumed as much,” Sherlock says, standing up finally and going to close his bedroom’s door before Mycroft can’t peek into it. “It’s none of your business,” the younger man adds with a hiss and a glare that Mycroft ignores with practiced ease.

“On the contrary, brother dear,” Mycroft argues calmly. “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you asked me not to meddle in your relationship?” he hands him the folder he’s been carrying him the whole time and Sherlock glares at him. “I took the liberty of doing a background check.”

“There’s NOTHING going on!” his little brother argues once more, tearing the folder and its contents into tiny pieces, not even glancing at the documents in it. “There’s no need for you to worry.”

Mycroft sighs. This is quickly getting out of control. “Even if you’re indeed not dating Dr. Watson, this _thing_ going on between you is worrisome. Friendships are… we’re not really made for those things.”

Sherlock glares darkly. “Says you,” he murmurs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Again, there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Once more, the older man sighs. “If you say so,” he concedes finally, knowing full well it’s useless to argue with his brother when he’s dead set on something.

It’s time to implement other measures, then.

* * *

 

“So, umm-”

“Really Lestrade?” Sherlock says dramatically, moving out of the way so the police officer can step into the flat. “What’s this? Another drug bust? Where’s the rest of your team then?”

Greg sighs, his shoulders sagging. “No, no, it’s none of that. I just- I thought I would stop for a quick visit-”

“My brother put you up to this, didn’t he?” Sherlock pours him some tea and Greg is quite surprised by this. In his experience, Sherlock behaving politely is not how this type of visits go. When there are cookies to go along with the tea, he begins wondering if he ought to start worrying.

“Is this poisoned? Or drugged in some form?” he asks, knowing Sherlock doesn’t need any answer. The younger man rolls his eyes, taking a quick sip from the cup and then biting one of the cookies. “That doesn’t really prove anything,” Greg murmurs, but takes the offered drink and food.

Sherlock plops dramatically on the couch in front of him and Greg clears his throat awkwardly. “Molly told me you were dating, actually,” he says after awhile. “Mycroft simply… confirmed it.”

“I’m not,” the teenager argues darkly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Dating, that is.”

“No? So… what are you doing then? Because based on what Molly told me-”

“Why won’t you all mind your own business?!” Sherlock demands angrily. “Why do you all care so much?”

Greg gives him a look and Sherlock pouts like the annoyed toddler he is. The officer sighs, running his fingers through his hair, carefully placing his tea cup on the table. “Listen, Sherlock: after last time, can you really blame us for being concerned? We just- we don’t want to see you go through the same thing.”

Sherlock clenches and unclenches his fists, breathing heavily. Greg knows he understands their worries, but of course he’s not happy about it. He likes to think he’s too old for everyone’s concern and he resents that past experience proves otherwise; of course, it’s certainly not his fault what happened before: he had been so young and inexperienced, of course he was dazzled by the charming man that-

“Don’t,” Sherlock utters darkly, standing up and going to pick his violin. “I don’t need nor do I care for your pity, Lestrade.”

“It’s not-” Greg begins, but as Sherlock begins playing, he knows it’s useless. With a sigh, he stands up, heading towards the door, feeling tired and perhaps a tad dejected.

This isn’t going to be easy at all, is it?

* * *

 

Sherlock watches Lestrade climb into the black car parked in front of the apartment building and sighs, stopping his playing. He understands everyone’s concern, of course, but he’s honestly fine. John is- he knows he’s different. And he’s been a good friend so far: always willing to listen and so very- affectionate, really. Sherlock cherishes all those small touches John seems to bestow so easily upon him and he truly enjoys his company; he might not be frightfully brilliant but he’s clever enough and while he doesn’t always follow Sherlock’s line of thoughts, he’s always so honestly interested on what he has to say.

He’s very different from everyone that Sherlock has met and he never- he never felt this way before. Not even with-

No. Better not to think about _him._

But as much as he feels for John, he knows it’s not mutual. John certainly seems to enjoy being around him and he does spend a ridiculous amount of his spare time with Sherlock but that- that’s it. He isn’t currently dating someone and his friends have crazy schedules (just as his) and when they do have time off they prefer to catch some sleep (or in Bill’s case to hang with Molly) so of course Sherlock is the logical solution to his… loneliness.

He doesn’t mind, honestly. It’s nice to have someone he can speak to and who doesn’t find his deductions “freaky”. He’s still holding himself back a little, but he can tell that John won’t mind even when he’ll get in full deduction mood and starts spouting out uncomfortable truths (he probably won’t be happy, but he won’t get mad and more importantly, he won’t be mean about it). He gets to be himself around John and that’s honestly more than he ever thought he would have with _anyone,_ so…

He’s fine, really.

It’s all fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… thoughts anyone?  
> This was meant to be on a much happier note (like the beginning of the conversation with Molly) but it quickly went elsewhere. So… well, I don’t know. As I said, I intended for this to be humorous, but I suppose that’s not always possible. It’s not that sad, though, is it?  
> Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! Once more it is ridiculously short, but well… it’s slightly on a much more humorous note so…  
> Enjoy?

John watches as the man who was just visiting Sherlock gets into the black car parked in front of the building and wonders what’s going on. He can hear Sherlock playing his violin upstairs, the dark, melancholic melody making him ache in odd ways. He wonders if he should visit, just to make sure everything is alright.

He wonders if this obsessive concern makes him as much of a stalker as the _boyfriend_ is and promptly dismisses the thought: Sherlock is his friend and so it’s just natural to be concerned about him.

With that thought in mind, he makes his way out of the flat, leaving dinner half made, knowing already his flatmates are going to tease him for it for the rest of eternity (and now that he thinks about it, it’s a real wonder they haven’t said anything so far) but not caring about that in this particular moment. His only thought is Sherlock and making sure Sherlock is alright.

The playing has stopped by the time he’s standing outside the door and so he hesitates to knock. It seems- intrusive, somehow. But then, they’re neighbors and the walls are rather thin and isn’t that exactly how their whole relationship started?

Before he can convince himself of knocking through, the door gets unceremoniously thrown open. John manages to keep himself from yelping, but it’s a close call and Sherlock can evidently tell by the way he smirks. “Evening, John,” he greets, his eyes shining with amusement.

“Hello,” John returns, a shy embarrassed smile on his lips.

For the longest time, they stand in silence, just seizing each other up. “Is there something you needed?” Sherlock asks finally, not looking exactly put off, but a bit wary.

“Oh,” John murmurs, at lost of what to say. He had his reasons for coming, of course, but how does he go about explaining them to Sherlock? “I just- I- umm- I was wondering if you would like to go out to have dinner with me?”

Sherlock’s eyes swept over him. “Won’t your flatmates get mad that you left them without dinner?”

John blushes, cursing his lack of forethought. He should have known Sherlock would notice he was making dinner and that he had left it only half done. “No,” he answers, biting his lip. “Or maybe they will, I just don’t care.”

Sherlock looks at him oddly, tilting his head to the side. “I might still have some leftovers of the pasta Mycroft brought the other night,” he musses out loud, leaving John at the door and heading towards the kitchen to hunt for the aforementioned pasta. “It ought to be edible,” he continues, ignoring John’s slight scowl.

He has no doubt the _boyfriend_ has some amazing personal chef that prepares food for Sherlock (food that goes mostly uneaten, he must say), but he’s not particularly eager to eat _anything_ the other man had delivered.

“It should be if you didn’t store it along severed toes or something,” John murmurs, walking into the living room and wondering if he should join Sherlock in the kitchen. It’s just that, whenever he happens to be “visiting” and somehow ends up at the kitchen preparing tea or something, it always feels oddly domestic.

Which is nice and all, but considering their circumstances… “Aha!” Sherlock exclaims triumphantly, pulling out a large container with pasta that actually looks pretty tasty. “This should do.” He grins at John and the doctor can’t help smiling back, even if a bit awkwardly.

“So, are we eating at the table or-?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous John,” Sherlock says, joining him in the living room, still carrying the container. “I have no interest whatsoever on finishing this, but it’ll work nicely for your flatmates.”

“What? Sherlock-”

“I was thinking we could go for chinese,” he continues, ignoring John’s attempts to interrupt him. “I can always predict the fortune cookies,” he adds with a cheeky grin that has John giggling despite himself.

“Of course you do, you madman,” John murmurs fondly and Sherlock offers him a winning smile that, now that he looks closely, looks a tad forced. John immediately frowns, but before he can ask anything Sherlock takes him by the arm and pulls him out of the flat.

“Come on, John. Dinner awaits.”

* * *

 

Sherlock is all smiles and silly jokes all around dinner and now John is definitely worried. The man isn’t this cheery normally and that can’t be a good sign; just who his mysterious visitor was and what exactly did he want?

“Sherlock?” John interrupts him in the middle of some explanation about- well, John honestly lost track of what he was explaining. The taller man turns to him, one eyebrow raised questioningly and John takes a deep breath. “I just- I was wondering… who was the man from earlier? The one who came to visit you?”

Sherlock’s face darkens and John worries immediately. “No one you should worry about,” the younger one says, looking away and John bites his lip, unsure if he ought to press.

“I just- you seem odd tonight. Did he- was there something-?”

Sherlock sighs, running his fingers through his messy curls. John immediately chastises himself for getting distracted with thoughts of running his own fingers through those messy curls and forces himself to focus on the matter at hand.

“Lestrade is- he’s sort of-” he waves a hand vaguely, uncertain. “I would say he’s a friend of Mycroft’s, but of course he’ll deny that. There’s some agreement going on between them, though. Not that I really want to know, considering… well,” John feels his blood boiling because _how dares he?_ who would cheat on Sherlock Holmes, really? “Anyway, I sometimes- when I was younger I would- he would show old cold cases and I would look into them. Point him in the right direction, so to speak. Sometimes even on current cases,” he smiles smugly, obviously proud and John must admit he’s amazed.

“So he works for…?”

“The Yard,” Sherlock finishes for him, a small smile on his lips.

“The Yard,” John murmurs awed. “You used to… _consult_ for the Yard.” Sherlock shrugs and John can’t help the small chuckle that escapes him. “Well, I knew you were brilliant but this is… how old were you?”

Sherlock seems to think about it for a beat. “Fifteen, I think? Well, definitely fifteen the first time he actually listened to me.” He shrugs once more, “not that I can exactly blame him. I was just a kid, really.”

John smiles, “you’re truly brilliant, you know?”

“I know,” Sherlock agrees, but his embarrassed smile says otherwise. He obviously knows he’s clever, but he’s not actually used to be praised for it. John can’t help to feel outraged on his behalf; just who the _boyfriend_ thinks he is to let that go unmentioned?

If he was Sherlock’s boyfriend…

But he isn’t, so he really should watch his thoughts. Going on that direction will end in nothing but trouble for him. “So, anyway, did this Lestrade say something to upset you?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, now looking a tad annoyed. “He was just being a busybody. Just like Mycroft, honestly.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, a dark scowl on his face. “He’s like a bloody puppy: too eager to please.”

John isn’t exactly sure what to say to that, so he only offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Sherlock looks troubled for a beat, but the expression is gone of his face so quickly that he can’t tell for sure if he imagined it. Still, he supposes he ought not to press since his friend looks angsty enough by now.

“Let’s head back home,” he proposes finally, although he truly doesn’t want their evening to end. “I’m dying for a cuppa.”

Sherlock smiles briefly and nods, locking his arm with John’s and so walking back to their apartment building.

Things might not be exactly perfect, but John can’t say he’s exactly unhappy with this turnout.

* * *

 

“So, the guys and I are going out for a drink on Thursday and I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

Sherlock stares at him as if he’s speaking in a different language and John worries immediately. He bites his lip, unsure of what exactly he said that seems to have troubled Sherlock so much and unsure of how to solve it. “Sherlock?”

“You- you want me to go out with you and your friends,” the younger male repeats, sounding a bit unbelieving and John isn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Yes,” he assures him, frowning a bit. “Is there a problem?”

Sherlock cringes a bit, “no, not exactly. I just- umm- do you think that’s a good idea?”

Well, that makes some sense. Sherlock isn’t- well, he’s a bit socially awkward, to be completely honest. “It’s fine. Mike already knows you and Bill- well, Bill is bringing Molly along so…” he waves a hand vaguely and while Sherlock doesn’t look exactly convinced, he isn’t protesting either.

“If you think it’s a good idea…” Sherlock shrugs. “Sure.”

John beams brightly at him and he could swear Sherlock’s eyes drop to his lips, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Or maybe he’s just wondering how does he manage to grin so widely. “Perfect! I’ll pick you up at 7. You’re free at 7, right?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically. “John, attending my classes is completely optional,” he says boredly. “It’s not like I care one bit.”

John thinks he ought to say something to that, but he can’t exactly bring himself to care. “Ok, great! So… till Thursday, then.” John isn’t exactly sure how is he going to survive without seeing Sherlock till Thursday though, seeing it’s Sunday and Thursday feels like a lifetime away.

“John, wait!” Sherlock stops him before he gets to the stairs and John turns eagerly. “I- Would you like to have breakfast on Tuesday? I have the morning free.”

John’s nod might a bit overeager, but Sherlock doesn’t seem to mind. He offers him a small smile before going back into his flat and closing the door behind him, leaving John standing there, smiling too brightly.

As he makes his way back downstairs, he thinks of something Sherlock said during their last outing.

Well, it seems he’s like a bloody puppy too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… thoughts anyone?  
> I’m really enjoying writing the chapters going from John’s POV, since they’re on the lighter side. As usual, Sherlock has a too sad backstory. I don’t know why I like having him suffering more…  
> Anyway, quick question! Do you guys mind if a chapter runs from multiple POV’s? I’m trying not to mix them, but I have the feeling the next one would flow better if we mix them a bit. Also, remember I said I didn’t think we would be seeing any actual Sheriarty? Well, technically we still won’t, but Jim is going to show up, even if for a very little while ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! I’m sorry for the late update, but I’m afraid I got a bit stuck with this. Besides, I’ve been attacked by two plot bunnies and so… well, I got a tad distracted.  
> Anyway… enjoy?

Sherlock runs a hand over his forearm in a nervous gesture, willing himself to calm down. It’s ridiculous, really and he shouldn’t get this worked up, but-

He should call John and cancel. Except he can’t do that because, oddly enough, they haven’t exchanged numbers. He could go and knock downstairs, he supposes, but if he does that John will ask why and then Sherlock will have to answer. With a phone call he could simply hang up and say latter his phone battery died or something.

A text would be even better, now that he thinks about it. If he asks Mycroft to get him John’s number- well, his brother certainly could, but that’s a bad idea. It’s a bit stalkery, not to mention it would have him owing his brother something and that’s a no-no.

There’s also the fact that Mycroft insists he should  _ end  _ this and since Sherlock refuses to listen to that ridiculous advice-

But then, what is he to do?

It’s just a night out for drinks. With John’s friends. John’s friends who are, apparently, bringing their respective dates. But John and Sherlock aren’t dating, are they? No. Sherlock would know. John would have told him, if nothing else. It would only have been polite, wouldn’t it?

Is he reading too much into it? Probably. Is he freaking over nothing? Probable too. Should he give in and call Molly and ask for her opinion? Oh, but Molly is  _ bad  _ at this relationship business. His brother? Laughable, considering the man has been carrying an engagement ring for the last year, all the while swearing  _ caring is not an advantage,  _ not to mention he hasn’t even asked Lestrade on a bloody date. As for Lestrade himself… well. That might work, actually.

But Lestrade would tell Mycroft and then Mycroft could decide it was time to pay him a little visit and they would end up arguing and John might come up to see what’s wrong and-

No, no- he needs to stop with this nonsense. He’s better than this. He’s smarter than this. He can figure it out on his own.

Can’t he?

What does John want, anyway? They’re- friends, he supposes and it’s working so nicely! Of course Sherlock would love for them to be more, but he’s not sure he can actually handle a relationship with John Watson. He really  _ really  _ doesn’t know how to do  _ casual.  _ He’s already head over heels for the gorgeous man, if they were actually to date-

And, as much as it pains him to admit it, there’s his last relationship to consider. He truly has no idea of how relationships work, which was thoroughly proved by the way things went with Ji-

No. He’s not thinking of him. Not right now. Now is most definitely not the time to be thinking of his ex boyfriend who might have left the country or not (Mycroft wasn’t particularly forthcoming with that information. It didn’t help Sherlock was high as a kite back then either)

He can’t go back to drugs as a coping mechanism. And while John has proved so far that he does care about him and has shown to be more than a tad concerned about Sherlock’s bad habits (smoking and skipping meals as far as he knows)... well, who can tell for sure how things will change if they actually get in a relationship?

Oh, but he  _ wants.  _ He wants it so very much…

He scratches his arm, his fingers tracing his old scars lightly. They’re barely visible, he knows, but John is a doctor and he’ll know what they are as soon as he sees them. What will he think of him then? Will it prove to be too much for him then? Will he decide that dating Sherlock is too much of a hassle? What if he doesn’t even want to be his friend then?

God, why must it be so bloody complicated?

There’s a knock on the door that has him nearly jumping out of his skin. He turns to look at the closed door, his heart on his throat, his hands all sweaty. Is it time already? How long has he been staring at his reflection uselessly?

Another knock and he closes his eyes, going to open the door like a man heading towards his execution. John awaits outside, looking as handsome as ever, a bright smile on his lips that only widens as he takes Sherlock in. His eyes swept over him approvingly and Sherlock can’t help to blush a little as the other man licks his lips. Oh dear God, how is he supposed to resist that?

“I know it’s a little early,” John says, his eyes apparently glued to Sherlock’s lips. “But I thought we could go for dinner before meeting the guys?”

Ugh, dinner. Sherlock doesn’t think he can keep anything down, but he’s not about to refuse John anything, is he? So he smiles tightly and nods, not quite trusting his voice. John looks concerned for a beat, so he forces himself to relax and smile a bit more encouragely.

John doesn’t seem completely convinced, but seems willing to let it go for now.

And really, that’s all Sherlock could ask for.

* * *

 

“I feel ridiculous,” Greg complains softly, not looking at Mycroft. Not that it matters, since the other man’s eyes are glued to the window, watching with avid interest as his little brother leaves the flat accompanied by a shorter man. “Don’t you think this is a bit extreme?”

“No,” Mycroft deadpans and Greg sighs. He should know better by now, really. 

“Following your brother might be-”

“I don’t care!” Mycroft exclaims dramatically. “He’s not- I can’t- what happened last time-” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up adorably. “I can’t see it happening again.”

Greg hums. “This John seems like an amicable fellow,” he says after a while and Mycroft sighs, biting his lip gently. “Have you- about what Molly said-”

“There’s nothing that suggests Moriarty has attempted to contact my brother, nor that Sherlock has looked for him. But- I don’t know. They’re both quite clever.”

Greg nods sadly. “Still, if Sherlock is truly interested on this John fellow- it wouldn’t make sense.”

Mycroft sighs. “I’m worried about what John’s flatmates have seen exactly. And I also- I don’t know what to think about this John Watson.” He makes a face, displeased. “He refused to help me keep an eye on my brother and if Moriarty has indeed been around-”

Greg bites his lip, unsure if he should say something. “He probably thought it was Sherlock’s business, though. He might have been… trying to protect his privacy or something.”

“But Moriarty-”

“He doesn’t know about him. He doesn’t know how things between him and Sherlock went last time. I’m not saying he’s right-” he hurries to add when Mycroft turns to glare at him. “He just doesn’t know how bad things were. Hell, last time even you didn’t know how bad they were, Myc.”

The older man bites his lip viciously and turns away, going back to staring outside the window, before barking to his driver to follow the cab his brother and his friend have just gotten into. Greg sighs, figuring he should just resign himself to follow along.

It’s going to be one hell of a night.

* * *

 

John thinks the night is going well, all things considered. Sherlock seemed a little nervous at the beginning, but he has grown relaxed since they started drinking. That probably has something to do with the alcohol, but since he made sure Sherlock ate something before they headed to the bar, he’s not terribly concerned.

Molly and Bill are at the dance floor, evidently having the time of their lives judging by the way they’re laughing merrily while clinging to each other. Mike and Katie, his girlfriend of  _ years _ are sitting on their edge of the booth and whispering to each other, lose in their own happy bubble. John can’t help to envy his friends a bit, particularly since Sherlock keeps alternating between sitting as close as possible to him and putting as much distance between them as possible.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks, placing a hand on Sherlock’s knee to gather his attention and startling the younger man. His friend’s eyes are wide a saucers, looking a bit like a deer caught in the highlights. “Sherlock?”

“It’s fine,” he murmurs, looking away. “It’s all fine. I just-”

“Sherlock?”

“I- I think I need some air,” he whispers, standing up abruptly and startling Mike and Katie, who turn to look at John with open concern. “I’ll be right back.” John watches him go, wondering what he did wrong. Mike offers him a baffled look before getting distracted by something Katie says. 

John sighs, resting his chin against his hand. Sherlock has been behaving oddly all night, but he had thought-

And that’s when he sees him. The  _ boyfriend  _ is sitting at one of the booths across them, the man he saw the other day at Sherlock’s flat sitting next to him. They seem to be entertained talking to each other, but John has the slight impression they’ve been spying on them.

Which would explain Sherlock’s odd behaviour. Or maybe- maybe Sherlock spotted the other men when they walked into the bar and they were- doing something other than talking and that upset him. He certainly has implied something might be going on between those two, so maybe-

He still hesitates for a beat, wondering what he should do. In the end though, he simply stands up and heads towards the door, deciding that going after Sherlock and asking for some answers might be the best way to go.

Sounds perfectly reasonable to him anyway.

* * *

 

Of all the nights- of all the places-

“Well, hello darling.” Jim’s smile is as crazed as Sherlock remembers it, with the same dangerous edge that always both scared and excited him. “Miss me?”

Well. That’s a tricky question, isn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… thoughts anyone? I think it’s a bit longer than the previous chapters, but I’m not exactly sure…  
> I think we might have just a couple of chapters to go. It’ll depend on my inspiration, of course, but with those two plot bunnies biting at my ankles, not to mention my firm decision of finishing all my WIPs before the year is over… well. We’ll see, I guess.  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! Yes, I know it’s taken me a little over a year to update (really? that long?) but as part of my New Year’s resolutions, I decided to finish my WIPs and since I have completely ignored the rest of my resolutions… well, I needed to stick to one, at the very least! ;)  
> Enjoy!

Sherlock finds himself with his back pressed against the cold wall, heart beating erratically, excited and scared in equal measure and feeling way out of his depth while Jim continues smirking at him, hands resting against the wall on each of Sherlock’s sides, effectively keeping him trapped.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he finally manages to say, trying to keep his expression calm despite the mess his insides are. The man shrugs casually, still leaning too close and Sherlock attempts to back even more against the wall, without success. “I must say I wasn’t expecting to see you again, Jim.”

“Well, brother dearest would certainly have something to say about that,” he replies off handedly, smirk firmly in place. “But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Or me, for that matter,” he adds, smile turning slightly predatory and Sherlock gulps despite himself.

“Yes, well, umm, what do you want?” he asks bluntly, figuring there’s really no point on trying to be polite, all the while trying to find a way out of this mess he has foolishly walked himself into.

The other man pulls away finally and Sherlock finds himself breathing easier. “You wound me, Sherlock darling. Why do you assume there’s something I want? Couldn’t I simply be missing you?”

_ Don’t. _ Sherlock chastises himself promptly, telling himself he knows better than to trust any of the man’s lies, but there’s a part of him (a silly and ridiculous part of him) that actually feels  _ giddy  _ at the thought. “Doubtful,” he argues calmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, silently wondering how long will it take for John to begin worrying and decide to go looking for him.

Not long, he hopes.

“Oh, Sherlock, don’t be like that,” Jim says, a slight pout on his lips, once more coming into Sherlock’s personal space. “Haven’t you missed me?”

No. Yes. Perhaps. It’s complicated.

He’s standing far too close and there’s no way Sherlock can deny that he still feels that magnetic pull of all those years ago. He had thought himself over it, but now he’s not quite sure. Something aches fiercely inside him and he just wants-

Memories of these last few months with John come to him then, unbidden and he pulls away the minute the other man attempts to kiss him. No, he’s not going to play this game again. He has no reason to.

Jim observes him in silence, head slightly tilted to the side, expression thoughtful. Sherlock knows he needs to do something, physically remove himself from the man’s presence, but he finds himself rooted on the spot. It’s true he has decided he’s not playing Jim’s game anymore, but-

The other man opens his mouth to say something and just then the backdoor from the club opens, startling them both. John is standing there, looking even more worried when he notices Sherlock isn’t alone and the younger man isn’t quite sure what to do now.

For a beat, none of them speaks, Jim and John silently seizing each other up. Sherlock doesn’t know how to react at all, a part of him oddly curious of how this scene would play out if he didn’t intervene at all. However, it wouldn’t be fair to let John deal with Jim on his own, particularly since he doesn’t know-

“Well, isn’t this an interesting development,” Jim says finally, turning his attention back to Sherlock. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new  _ friend,  _ darling?”

John has stepped closer, placing himself between Sherlock and his ex boyfriend. Sherlock’s heart swells with affection, despite thinking he doesn’t really need the protection. Still, it’s nice to know John cares, even if-

“No?” Jim questions lightly, his mad smirk turning darker and making Sherlock want to grab John by the arm and run away. Unfortunately, that’s not really an option seeing how narrow the alley is. “Really darling, where are your manners?” he continues, turning his attention to John as he offers his hand to shake. “Jim Moriarty, nice to meet you!”

The odious falsetto rattles on Sherlock’s nerves, but he’s really not sure what he can do to escape this situation. He’s not quite sure what Jim really wants in any case and that just makes him even more nervous, since he’s literally in the dark about this whole business.

John hasn’t moved an inch, probably sensing the danger, carefully shielding Sherlock with his own body. This could turn very ugly very quickly and yet-

“Really,” Jim says after a beat, when it becomes evident John isn’t about to introduce himself. “Such an appealing lack of manners. All my hard work for nothing!” he exclaims dramatically, turning his attention to Sherlock once more. “I taught you better than that, sweetheart. And then you go and get yourself a…  _ pet  _ and suddenly-”

“Mr. Moriarty. What a surprise to find you here.”

Sherlock turns to the club’s backdoor, more than a little surprised by his brother’s presence. He certainly hadn’t been expecting him (or Lestrade, who he can see hovering behind Mycroft ready to intervene should it be needed). Unexpected as it might be though, he’s certainly happy for it.

He takes advantage of Jim’s attention being diverted elsewhere and hurries to take John by the arm, pulling him towards the street. His friend resist, probably curious of the scene he’s just witnessed, but Sherlock has no interest to stay for the confrontation. He already knows it won’t be pretty and the likelihood of someone getting hurt is high enough.

The problem is that Jim might not look terribly threatening but he’s  _ very  _ dangerous. Mycroft however has dealt with him before and so Sherlock is confident his brother will handle the situation well enough.

Besides, Sherlock is reluctant to get his new friend hurt, nor does he have any intention of letting his past somehow tarnish his future.

So maybe running might not be the bravest thing to do.

But it’s certainly the smartest.

 

* * *

 

They make it back to the flat in record time, John not saying a single word on all their way back. Sherlock isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but he figures that a cab is not really the best place for that conversation.

“Was it- leaving them like that-?” John begins, the second the door has closed after him. He looks honestly concerned and Sherlock sighs, running his fingers through his messy hair.

“Mycroft will deal with him. It’ll be fine.”

John nods, thoughtful. “So that was-”

“My ex.”

John nods once more, looking even more thoughtful. “You really know how to pick them, huh?” he says and Sherlock flinches, which in turn makes John look horrified. “Oh god, Sherlock, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he interrupts, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. He has come to depend entirely too much on John’s approval and that’s not good, he knows, so maybe- maybe this ordeal will prove for the best, really. “You make a fair point.”

“I just meant-” Joh begins hesitantly, looking torn. “It’s not-” he sighs, looking frustrated with himself. “In that alley you looked pretty scared. And I don’t- I of course have no right whatsoever to tell you who you should date or not, but I- I don’t understand why would you do that to yourself-”

Sherlock frowns, not entirely certain  _ how  _ is he supposed to answer that. “It’s not like I did it on purpose,” he murmurs softly, staring at his feet, feeling unsettled. “I was young and naive and Jim was…  _ is _ … he knows how to get to people.”

John watches him in silence for a few seconds, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. Sherlock sighs, one hand rubbing his arm, feeling the familiar itch under his skin and after staring at John for a few more seconds he figures he might as well come completely clean.

In for a penny-

“He’s also the reason why Mycroft is so…  _ overprotective, _ ” he explains, while he rolls up his sleeves. “Things were… they never were right between us, but they got worse as the time passed and I didn’t know… I didn’t think… and then…” He presents his forearms to John for inspection, just then realizing he’s shaking badly. “When I woke up in the hospital after an overdose…”

John is watching him with an horrified look on his face, holding him by the wrist while he inspects the tiny scars dotted all over his arm. “Oh, Sherlock…” he murmurs softly and Sherlock bites his lip harshly. He hates being pitied, he hates-

He makes to pull away, but John just holds him tighter and then he pulls him towards him, holding him close. Sherlock stands very still, unsure of what’s happening or how to react but he eventually relaxes in the embrace, basically melting against John.

“You- you don’t think worse of me for this, do you?” he asks tentatively after a while, pulling away a little.

“Of course not!” John exclaims, his hands still on Sherlock’s waist. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I understand… well, it can’t have been easy and I suppose it also explains a few things.”

Sherlock nods, a tad uncertain, not knowing what happens now. “I… I don’t think… would you mind spending the night? I just don’t want to be alone and I know you’re just downstairs, but I-” He’s afraid, he realizes. He wants to be with someone he trusts, someone who he knows will look after him and seeing his brother is probably going to be busy all night dealing with Jim…

Besides, he thinks he’d rather have John’s company anyway.

“Of course,” John agrees, a small smile on his face. “Whatever you need.”

Sherlock smiles, pleased his past hasn’t managed to completely ruin their relationship.

If anything, the future looks even brighter now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?
> 
> I was planning for this to be the last chapter, but I thought it’d work better if I broke it in two so… the next chapter should be ready very soon, though! (I promise I won’t take another year!)
> 
> Also, may I also take this chance to let you know I’m participating on the [Fandon Trumps Hate](https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/aboutus) auction, so here’s my [contributor post](https://fth2018offerings.tumblr.com/post/169445949959/ylc-fth-contributor-page) in case you’d like to bid on a work of mine ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, as I promised, here’s the last chapter. It’s… well, I’m not sure how to call it but while I don’t hate it, I’m not completely in love with either, although it does work :P  
> I hope you’ll enjoy it regardless!

What a night.

Mycroft can barely keep his eyes open, but at least the…  _ issue  _ with Moriarty has been handled, this time for good, hopefully. He closes his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose; he feels like falling into bed and sleeping for a week, but he needs to check on Sherlock first. He’s hoping his new…  _ friend  _ will stop him from falling into his self destructive tendencies, but he’s not comfortable trusting anyone with his baby brother’s safety, so…

“Perhaps you could wait till tomorrow,” Gregory says between yawns and Mycroft arches an eyebrow, slightly amused. The inspector blushes a bit, but he recovers quickly. “I mean… I’m fairly certain he’s fine. John seems… he can probably be trusted with this.”

Mycroft makes a face, scrunching his nose in displeasure. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the idea,” he confesses quietly. “I don’t want my brother to fall into his habits if his newest friend isn’t up to the challenge.”

“He really likes him,” Gregory argues, barely managing to keep his eyes open. “And I think he can handle anything Sherlock throws at him.”

Mycroft doesn’t answer, choosing to stare outside the window instead and Gregory sighs, turning to stare outside too, in silence.

Both are too tired to talk much, anyway.

 

* * *

 

The sound of the front door opening wakes John up, but he’s too comfortable and warm to care. He figures it’s one of his flatmates, coming back from some early errant and so he closes his eyes again and curls closer to his bedmate.

Wait a minute. What?

He jerks awake, his brain scrambling to make sense of what’s going on. The bedroom he’s in isn’t his and the person sleeping next to him is… 

Oh god. Just what happened last night? Did he drink too much? Oh god, oh god, what-

As the memories of the night before start coming back, he relaxes a bit. He remembers running into Sherlock’s ex outside the club and then coming back to Sherlock’s flat. Sherlock asking him to stay the night so he wouldn’t be alone. Sherlock shily asking him if he’d like to share the bed. Getting in bed with Sherlock.

Oh. Right. Nothing happened then and so John has no reason to freak out. Last night revelations were a bit… unsettling, truth to be told and he needs some time to mull over them, but overall… he understands a lot of things much better. He still thinks Sherlock’s current boyfriend is a controlling bastard, but he’s not completely out of his mind. There are better ways to go about looking after Sherlock, he thinks, but…

“You’re a very dead man, Dr. Watson,” a voice informs him and he looks up in the direction of the door where said boyfriend is now standing. John glares and then realizes what this might look like but-

“Piss off, Mycroft,” comes Sherlock’s voice from behind him. “Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

“I told you to let him sleep,” says someone standing behind Mycroft. “Personally, I-”

“Not now, Gregory,” Mycroft argues darkly, barely sparing a glance in his companion’s direction. “Can you see I’m threatening Sherlock’s  _ friend _ ?”

John opens his mouth to argue, but Sherlock beats him to it.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he says, sitting up, the covers sliding down his body and revealing they’re both perfectly dressed. “No one is taking advantage of me, Mycroft,” he deadpans darkly.

“Huh,” Mycroft says, evidently unconvinced and Sherlock huffs.

“John, would you give us a minute?”

John hesitates, not sure if leaving Sherlock with his boyfriend is a good idea. He bites his lip, looking between the two men and then the inspector from the Yard peaks into the room. “Perhaps Dr. Watson can help me make some coffee for everyone? God knows I’ll die for one right now.”

John stares at the man for a beat and then nods. He supposes it’s a good compromise: he’ll stay close enough to Sherlock to help if he needs anything while also giving him and the damn boyfriend some privacy.

He doesn’t like it, but there’s nothing else he can do, honestly.

With one last look in Sherlock’s direction and after receiving a nod from him, he exits the room, sending one last glare in Mycroft’s direction. The other man simply rolls his eyes, closing the door after him with a bang.

“Don’t worry about them,” the inspector tells him, heading for the kitchen, already looking for the coffee maker. “They might yell to one another for a while, but… it’ll be fine. They have a complicated relationship.”

John snorts, unamused.

As if he didn’t know.

* * *

 

Greg’s coffee making skills are questionable on a good day, they’re practically non existent on a day like this. He has had no sleep, spent a good part of the night chasing a madman (well, Mycroft’s people did most of the running, but the point stands) and said chase ended with him nearly getting shot (thank god for Mycroft’s own shooting skills). So all he really wants to do is go lie down and sleep forever more (or at least until either Holmes gets into some sort of trouble) but he knows that’s not going to happen any time soon, so caffeine is more than welcome.

Sherlock’s friend is watching him funnily, but Greg can’t summon enough energy to care. He takes a long sip of his coffee and makes a face at the bitter taste, mournfully thinking he should have let the friend make it. He probably knows his way around the flat better, so he probably knows where Sherlock is hiding the sugar this time around (changing stuff’s location helps to discourage visitors, you see.)

He rubs his temples in an effort to chase away the migraine he can feel coming, but he thinks it might be a little too late for that. As if on cue, a loud yell can be heard from Sherlock’s room, although Greg can’t, for the life of him, figure out what they’re arguing about now.

“You’d think that after last night there’d be some peace and quiet,” he murmurs to himself dejectedly, taking a sip from his cup. “Like dogs and cats, those two.”

“Has it… has it always been this bad?” John asks, sounding almost reluctant to talk to him and Greg shrugs, not really looking at him.

“More or less. Now, big brothers are usually overprotective and after the shit that has happened to Sherlock I can’t blame Mycroft for being… well. But considering Sherlock’s…  _ personality _ , it’s a real miracle they haven’t murdered each other.”

John is staring at him with very wide eyes and Greg frowns, trying to figure out what he said to earn himself that look. “Older brothers?” John says and Greg blinks owlishly, confused. 

“Yes. I suppose the age difference doesn’t help, nor the fact that Mycroft doesn’t treat Sherlock as an actual adult. Of course, once you met the parents, everything makes an awful lot of sense.”

“Brother?!” John repeats, sounding perhaps a tad hysterical now and Greg wonders why he’s so fixed on that. Surely he knew Mycroft was Sherlock’s brother? Why else would he be some damn overprotective?

“Are you alright?” he asks, honestly concerned although he’s having trouble on focusing on anything other than his incoming migraine.

“Yes. No. I… I’m going to need a minute,” John announces, looking troubled but Greg shrugs. His head is killing him and he can’t really bring himself to overly care about the crisis the other man seems to be going through.

“So let me get this straight,” John says after a long pause in which Mycroft and Sherlock’s argument can still be overhear through the paper thin door. “Mycroft is Sherlock’s older brother?” Greg nods, feeling like he’s missing something but not having any clue what. “Good god,” John mutters breathlessly, looking honestly shocked and then he starts laughing, perhaps a tad hysterically.

_ Great, _ Greg thinks a little dejectedly.  _ He’s just as crazy as Sherlock, isn’t he?  _

“Are you quite alright?” he feels obliged to ask once again, because John looks in the verge of losing it. The doctor just smiles though, perhaps a tad crazily, but Greg soon decides that’s none of his business. 

At least not for today. Maybe for another day when he’s had a little more sleep.

But definitely not for today.

 

* * *

 

Some undefinable time later, the door of Sherlock’s room opens and the  _ brother  _ storms out. The thought almost sends John into another hysterical laughter fit because of bloody course he’s Sherlock’s brother. How could he miss it?

To be fair, Sherlock only refers to his brother as “Mycroft” or “that unbearable jerk” or “that pompous idiot”, which, okay, maybe it should have clued John in a little earlier into the nature of their relationship, but he was emotionally compromised.

Or that’s the explanation he’s going to go with, anyway.

The  _ brother  _ and the inspector seem to hold an entirely silent conversation and now Sherlock’s comments about their…  _ relationship  _ and his resignation make so much more sense. John is torn between never speaking to Sherlock again out of sheer embarrassment and going after the other man and finally kissing him.

God, what an idiot he’s been!

The  _ brother  _ storms out of the flat finally and the inspector sighs dramatically before abandoning his coffee cup at the sink and following him. John watches them go absentmindedly, still wondering how could such a silly misunderstanding hold on for so long.

“John?” comes Sherlock’s voice from the bedroom, quiet and uncertain. John turns to look at his friend, who is watching him curiously, looking entirely too vulnerable and John immediately springs into action, coming closer to him and wrapping his arms around him.

“Is this okay?” he asks, thrilled at getting to hug Sherlock without torturing himself with thoughts of it being wrong.

“Yes,” Sherlock murmurs softly, wrapping his own arms around John. “My brother said… everything is fine now.”

And of course now is when Sherlock finally refers to Mycroft as his brother. This prompts another slightly hysterical laughter from John, which earns him a concerned look from Sherlock.

“Are you alright?” his friend asks, frowning a little and John laughs again, shaking his head before deciding to risk it. He holds Sherlock’s stare for a beat and then, very slowly, to give Sherlock time to back off if he so wanted, he presses his lips to the other man’s, getting an startled gasp out of him.

“What… I… I don’t understand,” SHerlock murmurs finally, his cheeks an adorable shade of red and John can’t help to kiss him again, now that he knows that the only thing keeping them apart was his own sheer idiocy.

“It’s a long story,” he says, smiling brightly while Sherlock stares at him puzzled, but happy. “I’ll tell you over breakfast, huh?”

But when Sherlock kisses him again, he figures the explanation can wait.

He’s in no rush to embarrass himself in front of his new boyfriend, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… thoughts anyone?
> 
> The ending feels so… I don’t know. It was such a silly misunderstanding and so silly to explain and I fear it feels very…  _ blah _ so I’m not sure whether it works or not.
> 
> Anyway, as usual, it was a real pleasure to get to share this little tale with you guys! I’m sorry for taking so long to finish it, but better late than never, right? Also, I hope the ending wasn’t terribly disappointing, particularly not after making you wait for so long.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read, left kudos and/or commented. You guys are awesome and I would have never finished without your encouragement. There are another few WIPs that I hope to finish very soon, hopefully I won’t lose my momentum now, so… well. If you’re following any other of my WIPs, I’m getting to them ;)
> 
> Thanks again for reading! And let me know what you thought, pretty please?

**Author's Note:**

> So… thoughts anyone?  
> Did it make sense? Somewhat? At least a little bit? I like the concept, but I’m not sure it’s really working, so…  
> Not sure when I’ll be updating this again, since I want to finish “Unforeseen” first (it just has a couple of chapters to go, after all) and I might finish “Wildest dreams” first too. Besides, I really should write another chapter for “Crush”, but I’m a little stuck with that, so...  
> Anyway, sorry for the ramblings. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought!  
> English is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, please point them out! Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)


End file.
